Angry

I was going to write a list of an atheist's favourite Christmas songs today, but I wanted to embed them, so it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Then I can do it from home.

Instead, I want to talk about anger. Righteous anger. The answer to the question, "Why are atheists so angry all the time?"

I understand your confusion. Seriously. There's no god, end of story. Let's get on with solving the climate crisis. I'd prefer nothing more. We need to seriously look at peak oil, too, but that's just too radical for most people. And we can't even get our shit together on GHGs, so peak oil is just going to blow everybody's mind. And with any luck, peak oil will solve the climate crisis for us.

But I digress. God's not real. Fine. Let's get on with other issues. I'd love to let it go. All this atheist wants is to be left alone. No more god talk. No more miracle bullshit. No more praying for stuff. I'll keep the blaspheming expletives, if it's all the same to you, simply out of habit. Besides, as much as I like the idea of shouting "Thor!" when I stub my toe, "Jesus H. Christ!" elicits a better reaction. It's culturally specific, like the French shouting "Tabarnac!" Screaming, "Church!" just doesn't do it for Anglos. I am, as Dawkins points out, a cultural Christian, meaning I'm surrounded by Christians in my culture, and blaspheming against their god is much better than blaspheming against a god nobody cares about.

"Vishnu!"

See?

But alas, it is not to be so (to return to my point). Atheists are not being left alone. JWs came to my house yesterday. Fortunately, they bugged my wife, because she's far more inclined to be polite than I these days. I might have started pointing out the logical fallacy of their faith in particular, on the way to pointing out the fallacy of god. She took their magazines and smiled. On the plus side, I now have their magazines. I can read them for a chuckle.

So here's the thing. My atheism is not respected. At all. God's in my Charter. He's in our publicly funded schools. He's in my house (but to be fair, I knew that, and I have to live with it). He's on TV, he's in magazines, and he's in the newspaper. If religious folk left us atheists alone, we'd be cool. We can seek god on our own, if we want. In fact, I like to watch Jack Van Impe. His hair alone is worth the time it takes. And then his wife's name: Rexella. I didn't think ANYBODY EVER named their kid Rexella. If I named my daughter Rexella, I'd expect her to be an atheist, because how could god let anybody do that to their kids? But there she is, hawking the books and DVDs and cheering breathlessly as her husband spouts apocalyptic nonsense about the newspapers (as he has for as long as I can remember, which admittedly is not very long, but long enough for people with any sense to begin to doubt the imminent return of our lord and saviour).

I also like the idea that an election in Germany can signal armageddon. It's quaint.

So some atheists are angry. And they have every right to be. If a bunch of muslim assholes can be furious about a drawing of Mohammad, or naming a bear after him, then atheists get to be pissed off. It's not like we're going to kill anyone or anything. We just want our rights respected. In Canada, more than other places (*cough*US*cough*), we are tolerated. Not enough, mind you, but we are at least considered citizens.

But elswhere, we won't be equal until we're mad enough to demand it.

'Tis the Season

This evening was more or less my favourite holiday-type stuff. We ate, then my wife wrapped Christmas presents while I drank eggnog and watched Christmas movies.

In honour of this occasion, in no particular order, are this atheist's favourite Christmas movies.

1. A Christmas Story: (1983) "You'll shoot your eye out!" A sleep hit that everyone has seen by now.
2. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation: (1989) "Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where's the Tylenol?" Likely the funniest holiday movie EVER.
3. Black Christmas: (1974) "Filthy Billy, I know what you did nasty Billy!" Apparently, my mom was pregnant with me when she went to see this movie. She says that's what's wrong with me.
4. Die Hard: (1988) "We're gonna need some more FBI guys I guess." Not your usual Christmas fare, but it does take place on Christmas eve. So it counts.
5. Die Hard 2: Die Harder: (1990) "Oh man, I can't fucking believe this. Another basement, another elevator. How can the same thing happen to the same guy twice?" Not as good as the first (Has the sequel ever been as good as the first?), but still fun, and Bill Sadler is in it.
6. Ghostbusters II: (1989) "You know, I'm a voter. Aren't you supposed to lie to me and kiss my butt?" Again, not as good as the first, but still a lot of fun. And, the villain (Vigo the Carpathian) was in Die Hard. I only noticed as the he blew up.
7. How the Grinch Stole Christmas!: (1966) "It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, or bags!" The original, narrated by Boris Karloff. Not that two-hour crime against humanity starring Carrey.
8. Life of Brian: (1979) "He's not the Messiah. He's a very naughty boy!" It starts on Christmas. Incidentally, it ends at Easter (and Passover, coincidentally), so it's an all-round holiday movie. Plus, it really pissed off religious people when it was released.
9. Scrooged: (1988) "The bitch hit me with a toaster." Bill Murray in his heyday. Plus, Mary Lou Retton, and some very funny homeless people.
10. Four Rooms: (1995) "Well, most recently, there's room 309, there's this scary Mexican gangster dude poking his finger in my chest. There's his hooligan kids snapping their fingers at me. There's a putrid, rotting corpse of a dead whore stuck in the springs of the bed. There's rooms blazing afire. There's a big fat needle from God knows where, stuck in my leg, infecting me with God knows what. And finally there's me, walking out the door, right fucking now. Buenas noches." Not a Christmas movie. New Years. But it's funny as all hell, and I needed to make this an even ten.

I could have thrown "It's a Wonderful Life" in, but it isn't always, and it has angels. Another candidate was the Muppet Christmas Carol. It gets honourable mention for the greatest number of puppets. Except possibly the Fraggle Rock Xmas special. Or the Muppet Christmas movie, where they pack as many puppets onto one set as they could fit puppeteers. It was a dog's breakfast of puppets, if you'll recall: Muppets, Sesame Street and Fraggles. There were probably more, too. I think John Denver was there. So bonus points for having a real ghost of Christmas Past.

Stay tuned for this atheist's favourite Christmas music.

A prayer

There's nobody out there, I think. Prayer and blogging have a lot in common, seems to me. Here I am, shouting into the blackness, and I have no idea if anyone hears me, because there's no answer.

So, based on that analogy, I'm going to ask the audience (I know you're out there, I can hear you breathing) for their help with my job interview today.

Wish me luck! I'm off to the big smoke for a job interview today! Government post! Sweet!

Thanks.

Wishful thinking

If atheism were a superpower:

How fucking cool is this?

I got rhythm

As far as I can tell, no one's reading this. Fine. Then apparently my question will go unanswered.

I need someone, preferably a priest, to explain catholic birth control to me. What makes it acceptable by church standards?

While going through marriage training, we discussed many things: kids, money, church, work and sex. We also discussed kids and sex together. Fortunately, these discussions were led by married couples, because I wouldn't be able to take a priest seriously on the subject of sex. In theory, he knows nothing about it. If he does, he's a liar at best. So we discussed what is commonly known as the "rhythm method", though I've been assured it's far more sophisticated than that.

The theory goes this way:

• Women are not fertile at all stages of their menstrual cycle.
• Sperm live only for a few days.
• It's safe to have sex with a woman (preferably your wife, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the horrifyingly poor success rate of this method of contraception) during these days of infertility (some of which, according to the OT, she is unclean) if you are trying to avoid contraception.
• The sperm will die before the egg is released.
  
• The methods to determine the safe days for sex include counting days, measurements of things like temperature, the dilation of the cervix, and the consistency of the mucous within (presumably not the taste, because that's a sin, I've been told).
• This is approved by a bunch of men who aren't supposed to be having sex with anyone.
• It's also supposed to be good for trying to have a baby, because then you can figure out the most fertile days and shoot for them (pardon the pun). This must be because just having a lot of sex all the time seems too much like fun for the church.

So, assuming this works, answer me this, smart guy:

What makes this Pope-approved?

Assuming that I, using the rhythm method, ejaculate inside my wife, knowing that there's no chance of her getting knocked up, how is this different from a number of other ways to ejaculate knowing there's no chance of conception? If my wife gives me head, and I come in her mouth, isn't that a sin because she can't get pregnant? During anal sex? Using a condom? When she's on the pill? Just jerking off, even if my wife is there or if I think about my wife? Aren't all these things sins because I'm experiencing orgasm and my seed is spilled, to speak biblically?

Wasting semen, I'm told, is bad. It's baby-making batter, and a gift from god. So, ejaculating in the vagina is the way to go. But if we don't want kids, we have to time it so she can't get pregnant. I'm belabouring a point here, but I want to be perfectly clear.

I'm guessing that the chief selling feature of the rhythm method for the RCC is its unreliability. Married couples are supposed to have kids. Preferably catholic ones. But any other kind is good too (except atheist ones, according to the pope). That's why gay couples can't get married (sorry, guys). We won't talk about barren folks or senior citizens because we're not allowed to discriminate against them (although, barrenness could be considered an imperfection, especially to a god so hell bent on knocking women up, and then you can't go to church anyway; it's somewhere in Leviticus, I think). Contraception is not cool. Not condoms, not the pill, and jerking off is a sin, too.

Maybe if priests could have sex, they wouldn't be so fixated on it. Or on kids.

Ad nauseum and nauseum

One of the most tiresome things about being an atheist is the coming out process. At least some homosexuals are obviously gay. They are out as soon as they open their mouths. Atheists, unless we're wearing that hip new "A" have to tell everyone. Sometimes more than once.


For instance, Monday night I apparently came out to my wife. Again. The fourth or fifth time. When we were dating, and I said I didn't think I believed in god, she was upset. She got over it. Apparently, by forgetting it. When we were going through the marriage training, and I said I didn't believe in god, she was upset, but she got over it. Apparently by forgetting. Then about a year ago, when our daughter was born, I actually said the word "atheist". Again, she got over it, and you can guess how. During the provincial election, again, I said I was an atheist. That was about six or seven weeks ago. I publicly said on more than one occasion that I was an atheist. It was relevant because of the catholic schools thing. I said it to her, explaining the word, and what I believed. Apparently she got over it again. Here it is, a month and a half later, and I'm bitching about the Golden Compass things (again, a catholic schools issue), and I let it slip that I'm an atheist.

Not only is she upset, she's offended. She's upset that I don't believe in god, like it's an insult to her. And she half accuses me of keeping this a secret: "That's not what you said to the priest when we got married."

I had to declare my faith in a questionnaire during marriage prep. I think I said I was a Taoist. It made sense at the time. Later, Buddhism seemed more appealing, but I never got beyond reading about it. Agnosticism seemed to me to be a bit of a copout. I've opted for a weak atheist position: in the absence of evidence, there's no god.

This isn't really apropos, but I can't resist it. He looks like
Magilla Gorilla or something.

So how do I deal with this? In theory, if this is really a big issue for her (and I can see it being one), she can request an annulment. Before she does, however, I have some questions about the rhythm method I'd like to ask a priest. I'd better get on that.

However, she seems fairly happy today. Has she forgotten again? Having these kinds of discussions are tiring. They're difficult. I have to try to be as gentle as possible when I explain my own lack of faith, and not attack hers. Especially when I believe that religious faith is useless, at best, and harmful, more often.

And worse, I've promised her that my daughter will be raised catholic. It's going to be very tough on Mickie and Tasha when Mickie gets to be five or six.

How do you tell your little girl that her mother suffers from a delusion?

Again, not particularly relevant, but I like it.

Ad nauseum

I'm beginning to thing that I don't have anything to add to this whole "atheosphere" thing. All the arguments I have for being an atheist are being repeated and explored all over the net: sometimes in blogs that are better written than mine, or more considered, or better planned, or from a more solid grounding in philosophy, theology, the Bible, the Qu'ran, or whatever.

So why the hell am I doing this? Because I kinda like it.

It's also helping me get through some of these things for myself.

Although I live in Canada, and we're kinder to our atheists here than the U.S., I'm still surrounded by people of varying degrees of religiosity. My grandfather is strict Baptist, my parents have recently more or less become United, my brother & I are atheists, my wife is Catholic, I'm not sure my sister ever thinks about god (but her kids believe in Santa), my wife's friends are more or less theists, and when I outed my self to a friend of mine on his blog (he writes for the paper), he was astonished that I'm an atheist. So I have to answer questions all the time about stuff like this, and because I'm avidly consuming the material on the blogs, the news feeds, the subscriptions, etc., I'm talking about it a lot. So it's coming up. I'm bringing it up.

In fact, it's a testament to how different things are here in Canada that I can say in a pub, "I don't believe in god at all," and not start a fight.

So I read, and I write, to settle things in my head: here is why I don't believe in god, here is what is necessary to convince me, and here are the things that won't.

So what have I said already? Epicurus' arguments, first. And to be fair, that's pretty compelling. After that it was my own personal revelation. And I'm afraid I wasn't clear on that.

One of the things I get when talking to religious people is the evidence of personal revelation. "I know God (you can hear the capital 'g' when they say it) exists because I've felt Him." or, "He's spoken to me." or, "He answers my prayers." It's argument from personal revelation, and to be honest, the only adequate response is, "You're crazy."

Actually, that's a little harsh, and I wouldn't say that to my wife, or she'd get an annullment. She'd probably divorce me except that she's Catholic.

But since god doesn't exist, he can't speak to people. He can't answer prayers, and he can't make you feel him. Therefore, since we have to assume religious people are telling the truth when they tell you this, it means they are deluding themselves. Or, they've been deluded. But to be uncharitable, you can't be deluded without allowing yourself to be deluded. You are complicit. So, you are deluding yourself, and delusional.

If Tasha's reading this, I'm sorry. It's just logical.

But to return to my original train of thought, an argument for faith is that of revelation. Allow me to rebut.

An argument for my personal atheism is revelation.

I recall the days when I was religious. I talked to god. I asked him questions. I asked for favours. I asked for forgiveness. And I don't recall ever once hearing back. I shouted, I cried, I begged, I pleaded and I wept. There was no response. I remember feeling fear, and despair, and existential angst (though I didn't know it at the time, and I was only 11, so I didn't have enough sense of cool to cultivate it), and ultimately, alone. And there's the thrust of it.

God is supposed to reveal himself: ask and ye shall receive and all that happy crap. He never revealed himself. Ergo, ipso facto, caveat emptor and carpe diem, he's not real.